


A Rose's for You

by hollybibble



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-02-04 17:29:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18609199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollybibble/pseuds/hollybibble
Summary: David is muddling through his job in Ray's wedding planning business when his new client Patrick Brewer walks in the door.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic here- hope you like it! I was inspired by a Tumblr prompt for David as Rachel and Patrick's wedding planner. This is more of a parallel world than an alternate one, where it is David working for Ray when they first meet.

David Rose sat at the small table that passed for his desk at Ray’s. Every other surface was covered with remnants of Ray’s many business projects- printouts of house listings, albums of photographs for the photography business, examples of high-end wooden hangers for the closet makeovers. David’s desk was tidy, with a Moleskine notebook, a Faber-Castell fountain pen, and, unfortunately, a glaringly red plastic rose in a cheap vase, and a desk sign reading “A Rose’s for You...Elegant Wedding Planning.”

Because David Rose was a wedding planner. It was a fun little phrase, one that recalled his favorite rom coms where Jennifer Lopez steals the groom from the bitchy bride. The truth was, as usual, much drearier. He spent hours each day at this sad little desk, deflecting Ray’s inquiries about his weekend plans or watching Ray stage elaborate photo shoots for young families and happy couples. Either the business hadn’t gotten off the ground yet or maybe there just wasn’t much demand for elegant weddings in Schitt’s Creek.

But it was better than nothing. And absolutely nothing was what he had when Ray offered him the job.

“David, my engagement photography business has been an overwhelming success. I have a very exciting idea for a new opportunity, but I require someone with a certain cosmopolitan flair to assist me.”

Now that he had some distance from that bad time, where his brain had been tied up with such dark knots and he was sure that a visible cloud of failure had surrounded him, David sometimes wondered if Ray had invented this job out of pity. Ray was sometimes annoying, and always without boundaries, but he was kind. David had been drowning and Ray had thrown him, if not a life preserver, a discarded child’s water wing that was enough to keep him from going under.

“David!” called Ray from across the office, where he was photographing a poodle and his owner dressed in matching jack o’lantern sweaters. In May. “I have exciting news! There is a young couple interested in our services! They have an appointment today at 11 o’clock!”

“Really?” asked David. “Who? And whatever convinced them to celebrate their love in Schitt’s Creek?”

“Rachel and Patrick. They live several hours away but Rachel’s grandmother is in Elmdale and is too frail to travel for the ceremony. They would like to have their wedding someplace easy for her. And I believe they were attracted by the nice Instagram photos Alexis has been posting for us. Plus, our reasonable rates and inclusive packages.”

The Instagram feed was mostly stock footage of questionable copyright that did not reflect the venues and vendors available to him in the greater Schitt’s Creek area. David was attempting to cultivate connections with the caterers and florists and banquet hall managers within a 30-mile radius, but it was nothing like the kind of wedding he would be proud of. Nothing like the kind of wedding he dreamed of. Not that he was ever getting married. The shoemaker’s children go barefoot, and the wedding planner stays single. That Pinterest board was set to private.

***

Promptly at 11am, while he was alone in the office daydreaming about Celine Dion’s iconic wedding headpiece, David heard the bell on the door jingle. A man wandered in, looking confused by the row of cowboy hats that Ray had left out for his next photography session.

“Hi there,” he called out to David. “Should I take a number?” He gestured towards Ray’s ticket dispenser, which always put David in mind of the butcher counter at a discount supermarket.

The pleasantries and small talk were the hardest part of the job for David. He tried to let Ray handle as much of that part as possible and adopted more of the persona of the temperamental creative. Basic bitch brides who were still getting style tips from Sex in the City reruns were thrilled to be bossed around by fussy gay. However, something about this man put him immediately at ease. He had an impression of pale skin, hair that was probably trimmed every four weeks at the local Supercuts, a poly-blend blue sweater, but mostly warm brown eyes looking directly at him.

“I’m pretty overwhelmed here but luckily I think we can streamline you to the VIP section.”

“That’s a relief. Patrick Brewer.” He stuck out his hand.

“David Rose. Welcome.” Patrick’s hand was warm, dry, a little rough like he did things besides reorganize his black sweaters or sit in the cafe drinking piss poor macchiatos. Fuck, he should probably let go.

“Right, of A Rose’s for You. The wedding planner.”

Patrick briefly covered a grin with his hand and looked down at David’s shoes.

“Either you are amused by bespoke footwear or the unfortunate business name.”

“I’m sorry,” said Patrick, though he didn’t look it. He shoved his hands deep into the front pockets of his jeans, looking like a mischievous little boy. “It’s just...A Rose’s for You? How many roses are we talking here?”

David sighed. He was surprised that most clients never asked about the stupid name. “There is a flower garden in bustling downtown Schitt’s Creek named after my mother, but because my father can’t fill out an order form it is called the Moira’s Rose’s Garden 4856. Better not to even ask about the 4856. My sister Alexis had just learned the word “synergy” in her online business class and convinced Ray to build a brand around this typo. I was...indisposed at the time and unable to stop them before the web domain was bought and the business cards ordered. Not to change this mortifying subject, but where is your bride?”

The smile dropped from Patrick’s face. David missed it immediately. “She’s meeting me here. She stopped by to see her grandmother in Elmdale.”

“Right,” said David. “The familial connection that brings you to us. Well, have a seat and we can go over some preliminaries until she gets here.”

David took out his notebook and favorite pen and set out a small photo album on the desk.

“We have a few options,” David began. “Here are some photos of Mutt and Twyla’s rustic barn wedding earlier this spring. Mutt owns the barn, but I’ve convinced him to rent it out as a wedding venue. The Cafe Tropical in town did the catering, and it was even more edible than their usual fare. Mason jars, burlap, candles- all the basic signifiers of country life without the roadkill. Is that the kind of atmosphere you and Rachel are looking for?”

David glanced up from the photos to check Patrick’s reaction. Patrick wasn’t looking at the photos. He was looking at David, or more precisely David’s Neil Barrett sweater, the one with the white lightning bolts that felt like his armor against the world. He looked equal parts intrigued and entertained, his open, affable face betraying every thought. David guessed that Patrick was not a big winner at poker.

The pause continued.

“So, um, burlap?” prompted David.

Patrick startled and turned a delicate, lovely shade of pink. “I’m sorry, I’m a little distracted.” Was he looking at David’s mouth? David pursed his lips self-consciously. “It’s just that...you’re not what I expected? When Rachel said she found a wedding planner in Schitt’s Creek with a name that seemed like an unfortunate Google translate accident, I wasn’t expecting someone as, well, interesting as you.”

He looked a little sheepish, but his eyes were so warm. David felt them penetrating his exterior and coming dangerously close to the frozen part of him buried deep inside. It hurt, but it also felt like a relief.

“Do you mind if I ask how you ended up working here with Ray?” Patrick asked. “I imagine that you are not a native...Schitt’s Creek-ertonian?”

It had been so long since anyone had looked at David with such interest. Waiting in anticipation for him to say something. Stevie, Alexis, and his dad were still so careful around him, praising him for his baby steps in this new job. He suspected they had a rotating schedule behind his back of who would eat dinner with him or take him on the occasional trip to the Elm Valley Mall for pretzels. He appreciated it, but it also reinforced his self-loathing. He was helpless and stunted and didn’t know how to live like a normal person.

David took a deep breath. “Thank you for noticing that. You are correct, I am fortunately not from here, but we moved here a few years ago after a family disaster. And I’m pretty new to the wedding planning industry. I’m not good at flattering brides and non-threateningly flirting with their husbands, so the world-of-mouth business hasn’t been amazing.”

David looked down, but he could still feel Patrick’s sympathetic gaze, and the radiant waves of interest and curiosity flowing towards him. He felt very exposed. But also weirdly okay.

“I’m kind of getting that this isn’t your thing,” said Patrick. “It must be hard for you to be, um, non-threatening.”

David had to give him a sideways smile for that.

“So, what is your thing, David?”

It felt good to talk about something real, not flowers or white dresses that all looked alike. But this part was still hard.

“A few months ago, I had a plan to open a store in town. I have some experience running art galleries, and I had a little seed money. I wanted to sell products by local artisans and farmers under the store’s brand. My brand.” David looked at Patrick who was smirking a little. “No, not the A David’s Rose’s Mercantile 4861.” He was rewarded with a true grin which was like an adrenaline shot. Words continued to spill out of his mouth.

“I wanted to make something beautiful in this town. And prove to myself and everyone else that I could do it. But I couldn’t. It ended up being more than I could handle on my own. I have a lot of ideas, but there was so much paperwork to do to get things up and running, to get the business license and the food handling certification and the lease application. And I tried to take out a small business loan and the bank wanted spreadsheets and sales projections and a five-year forecast.” David was sure that at the mention of spreadsheets, Patrick’s eyes glimmered. Weird.

“After that,” David continued, “I had...a bit of a spiral.” He wondered if he should continue, but he realized he couldn’t stop if he tried. It was like he was basking in Patrick’s interest, storing up the warmth for when he was alone again. “I got overwhelmed and my brain is not always my biggest supporter. I spent a few weeks in bed under the covers and then Ray showed up. He had tried to help me file the incorporation papers, but he didn’t quite get my vision. But he asked me if I wanted to help him start his new wedding planning business, and I was tired of feeling sad and humiliated, so here I am. Unfortunately, I was still in a haze while Ray and Alexis conspired on the name.”

After telling the whole sad story to this kind guy, David felt strangely peaceful. His heart had felt like a cold stone in his chest for so long that he had ceased to notice it, but talking like this made him feel, if not better, like maybe someday he would be okay.

“Thank you, David,” said Patrick.

“For what?”.

“For telling me that. I was being nosy, and probably trying to change the subject.”

“From the wedding?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” said David, “But that’s why we’re here. Enough about me. Sometimes I have my confused couples do a little visualization exercise I learned from Alexis, though I’ll skip the aromatherapy part. Close your eyes and picture your wedding day. Try to notice the details. Are you in a garden? Or a church? Are you sticking with this classic denim look you have going here, or are you wearing a tux?”

Patrick’s face, which had been radiant until now, suddenly looked drained. He slumped a little in his chair. “I don’t see anything.”

David had a sudden urge to touch his cheek. He wanted to bring back that cozy smile.

“Oh God, you’re not hoping for one of those Lord of the Rings themed weddings, are you? With fake pointy elf ears and the vows in Elvish? I guess we can pull that off. How do you feel about hair extensions?”

Patrick gave him a faint smile but kept his eyes closed.

“You want vampires,” continued David, desperate to bring back the warmth. “Rachel’s a goth, right?”

At the mention of her name, Patrick opened his eyes. “David, you’ve been really honest with me today, so I’m going to tell you something. I don’t think there’s going to be a wedding.”

“Oh fuck.”

“Yeah, that kind of sums it up. When I close my eyes and try to picture the wedding, I just see this big blank. And my chest feels tight and I feel like I can’t breathe…” He leaned forward and covered his face with his hands. David tried to think of something, anything to say but realized there was nothing. They sat in silence, facing each other. Patrick finally took a deep breath and looked up. His eyes seemed darker as they looked at David intensely. “I…” he began when his phone suddenly pinged, startling them both.

Patrick read the text. “And that’s her. Her grandmother’s not feeling well, and she wants me to meet her back in Elmdale and reschedule the meeting. I’m sorry, David.”

“Don’t be sorry. I’ll survive without planning your basic wedding. I bet you guys were going to have everyone blow bubbles instead of throw rice, right?”

He was rewarded with a bit of an eye twinkle for that one.

“It’s not Rachel’s fault,” said Patrick. “We’ve been together since high school, and she’s great. She’s nice. She’s...so nice. But maybe I want something more than spending my life with somebody nice, living in my hometown and working at the bank and seeing my same friends from high school every weekend. Maybe I want my life to be...interesting.”

That word again. David bit his lip. “Okay, Patrick, I’m not an expert on many things, especially not marriage, but I’ve been learning a lot about picking myself up after great shame and humiliation and taking baby steps forward. And if I can do that, I think maybe you can choose your own future and tell Rachel what you want.”

“Thank you, David.” Patrick stood up like he was about to leave, but hesitated.

“Here, take my card.” David handed it to him. “In case you want to talk about centerpieces. Or anything else.”

Patrick took the card. He looked David deeply in the eye while sticking it in his back pocket and said, “I’m kind of a numbers guy, if you ever want to talk through your business plan for that store.” It was the sexiest fucking thing David had ever seen.

***

About a week later, David returned from meeting with a new farmer outside of town who was considering growing hydrangeas in bulk and noticed a new voicemail.

“Hi Patrick, this is David….yeah, I think I just called you Patrick, and that’s not, that’s not your name.”

David grinned. Jennifer Lopez, eat your heart out.


	2. Time to Be Brave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wedding planner David is very busy trying to keep Bethany's special day from going off the rails. But he can't stop thinking about his nightly phone calls with newly single Patrick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who asked for another installment of David the wedding planner. I hope you enjoy!

The bride was unhappy. The sky was turning gray and threatening with rain, and her hair was drooping in the humidity. Her shoes hurt, the groom was hung over, and she had overheard the bridesmaids complaining how ugly their dresses were. But David Rose of A Rose’s for You was her wedding planner, and it was his job to keep things on track. This wedding was scheduled to start in fourteen minutes, and he’d be damned if it didn’t. 

“Bethany,” he said, grasping her hands in their little side room at the church, “First of all, you look amazing. This dress looks like it was made for you, and you are absolutely glowing. And second of all, there is no second of all because the most important thing about a wedding is a gorgeous bride. It’s the only thing any notices or remembers. So I’m going to touch up your lip gloss, and we are going to get this show on the road. It’s time to lock it down.”

Bethany gave a small sob and forced a smile. “Thank you, David,” she said as she picked up her bouquet. “Thank you for everything.”

David was a little surprised how much he wanted Bethany to have a beautiful wedding. He had worked hard on planning it, and wanted it go well. But more than that he actually cared. He cared about everything now. He was patient with the brides when the they couldn’t tell the difference between fuchsia and flamingo pink, and supportive when they vented about their bridesmaids. He made five phone calls to source peonies instead of just going with tulips. David wanted to do a good job.

And it was because of Patrick. David felt like a fool admitting this, but since he and Patrick had been talking, he was...happy. He got out of bed the first time his alarm rang. He had even invited Ray to lunch, for Christ’s sake. Though he came to regret that when Ray spent the whole time discussing his love for the The Fast and the Furious movie franchise.

David was dangerously close to smiling all the time because it had been a month since Patrick Brewer, with his warm brown eyes and delighted smile, had come into Ray’s to meet with David about planning his own wedding. And it had been three weeks since Patrick had left him a string of deliciously incoherent voice mails to say the engagement was off, and offering to help David with the business plan for his dream store. 

David called him back right away. “Hi David, this is David,” he teased.

Patrick recapped the break up. “It happened the afternoon after we met, but I wasn’t quite ready to talk about it. We have a habit of breaking up and drifting back together, but it’s final this time. I just wanted to let you know because, well, you really helped me see things clearly when we met. I mean, when you told me to think about what I wanted.” Patrick was stuttering a little with what sounded like embarrassment. “I mean, about the wedding.”

“I’m sure it’s for the best, then,” said David. “I hate to think I broke you guys up, but I would also hate to plan a wedding for a groom who was trying to escape.”

“You didn’t break us up. You just helped me realize some things.”

David felt his face growing hot. He was suddenly aware that he wanted to help Patrick Brewer realize a lot of things.

**  
David had Bethany ready to go but now the maid of honor and the best man were missing. “Bethany, how about you put some of this lavender essential oil on your pulse points and take a few deep breaths. I’ll be right back.” And he was off before she could ask him what was wrong.

With the radar of a reformed pervert who had slipped away from a few parties with anyone who looked his way, David headed straight towards the single-occupancy bathroom in the church basement and rapped on the door.

“Um, hello? Whatever you are doing in there needs to stop immediately, and you need to COME THE FUCK OUT RIGHT NOW!”

He smirked with satisfaction at the sudden crash and muffled whispers behind the door. Melinda the bridesmaid and Jeff the best man slinked out, him looking embarrassed and her looking hostile.

“Wonderful, I’m so glad I found you. Jeff must have been helping you fix your hair, but I’m afraid it’s still a bit flat on one side. Let me…”

David guided them back to the foyer, pushing Jeff towards the other groomsmen and hissing to Melinda, “Your only job is not to leave Bethany’s side and to keep telling her how pretty she looks. And if you can’t do that, Jeff’s girlfriend might hear some vague rumors about where he slipped off to.”

Even the new nice David had his limits.

**  
Patrick had been calling him a lot, even when it might have been easier to email or text. Last week, Patrick had suggested they Facetime so he could see David’s sketches for the store logo, and he could walk David through the sales projection spreadsheet he had created.

And so there was Patrick again, right on his phone screen. All the warmth and openness that had caught David off guard in their first meeting came flooding back, and he couldn’t speak for a moment. “Hi,” he finally managed with a crooked smile and glanced away shyly. 

“Hi,” answered Patrick. He smiled eagerly. The word that jumped to David’s mind was “radiant” but he tried to stuff it down. The intimacy of holding Patrick’s face in his hand, right there on his phone, so close to his own face, made him feel hopeful, and embarrassed to be hopeful.

“You look..relaxed,” said David. “Happier.”

“I am,” said Patrick. “Happier.” His eyes rested on David’s face. “I feel like a weight’s been lifted. Hey, it’s good to see you, man!”

“I’ve always had mixed feelings about Facetime,” said David. “Like, do I really want to have to change clothes and fix my hair before a phone call?” Fuck, why had he said that? Patrick did not need to know how long he had spent deciding what to wear. David didn’t even know why he had bothered—Patrick surely couldn’t tell the difference between Givenchy and Express for Men. He was a nice guy who felt sorry for David and was trying to keep busy after a breakup.

Patrick’s eyes glinted as he looked at David appraisingly. “Wow, well I appreciate it. I like your...sweatshirt? Sweater?” 

David rolled his eyes.

“It looks like it would be soft,” added Patrick, and then he blushed a little bit, like he was picturing touching David and this magically soft sweater for some reason.

David smiled again, and didn’t look away this time.

***  
David always discouraged his couples from having children in the wedding party. They were messy, they were unpredictable, and they would upstage you. No one ever listened. So this is how he found himself trying to convince Bethany’s three year old flower girl to come out from under the couch so they could start the fucking ceremony.

“Come on, sweetie,” begged Bethany, “Everyone’s waiting. After you can have ice cream!”

“Come out right now!” yelled the girl’s mother, “Or no Paw Patrol for a week! And your dress better not be dirty!”

“Maybe a detached bystander could try?” suggested David. He sat on the floor next to the couch, his Prada suit be damned, and peeked underneath. Olivia was curled in a ball in the very back, beyond the reach of adult arms. He wasn’t sure what to say to a three year old, but she was still a person, right?

“Hey Olivia, it’s David,” he said softly. “I’ve been helping Aunt Bethany with her wedding. I’m the one that told you to throw the flower petals with more flair at the rehearsal. And then you did much better, so thank you.”

He remembered her little face from last night, so proud and nervous to have this huge responsibility of scattering rose petals.

“So Olivia,” he continued, “I’m not sure why you’re under the couch, but I’m going to guess you feel scared of being in front of all those people. I think you are smart, so I’m not going to lie to you. It might be pretty scary. People will be looking at you. But you know what else? Everyone out there is on your side. If you fall down, someone will help you back up. If you spill your flower petals, I’ll be right there to put them back in the basket. If you can be brave and come out and walk down that aisle, you’re going to get to feel how much everyone here cares about you.”

A little hand shot out and wrapped around his ankle. David thought about Alexis and Stevie, his parents and Ray—all the people who had picked up his metaphorical flower petals. And now Patrick. Was he right to feel hopeful? Was there any chance that this kind, confident, generous guy was feeling these same tingles and butterflies? He wasn’t sure if he could face it if Patrick wasn’t, but it might be worth it for the chance that he was.

“Are you ready to come out, Olivia? I’m feeling kind of nervous myself. Maybe we could walk in together?”

Olivia scooched all of the way out. She took his hand. “I’m ready to be brave, David.” Her voice was high and sweet. 

David choked back a sob. “Me too.”

**

Patrick had Facetimed him last night. David could see wet comb marks in his hair, and he was wearing the same blue sweater from when they’d first met.

“What did you think of my revisions on the business plan?” he asked. He seemed different tonight, more serious and self-conscious. 

“Mmm, I’m cutting out every time you say ‘actionize new opportunities.’”

“Sure, the folks at the bank would prefer to hear about how it’s a general store, but also a very specific store.”

“That’s your opinion,” said David. This was better.

“My professional opinion.” Patrick paused. “So what will happen with your wedding stuff when the store opens?”

“I don’t want to be overly optimistic about that happening, but I think Alexis is going to take over things with Ray and expand to general event planning. But she wants to change the name.”

“Thank god.”

“Not quite. As if it there wasn’t enough punctuation, she wants to call it A. Rose’s for You, so the “A.” can be short for Alexis.”

Patrick groaned, but David could see that he was smiling.

“I might actually miss it a little,” David continued. “I have a wedding this Saturday, and it made me realize that it’s been a great opportunity to make contacts and meet vendors. I just feel awkward at the receptions with all the old friends and family. Once my job is done then I’m just some kind of random wallflower watching everyone dance.”

Patrick smiled at him with what David might have thought was tenderness. “That actually sounds pretty good to me. Now that I’m living with my parents again I feel like I have to spend the weekend helping my dad with the yard work or playing bridge with my mom.”

“Sounds like we’re both living the swinging bachelor lifestyle.”

“That’s it. Good night, David.”

“Good night, Patrick.”

***  
David was relieved to have the ceremony over. Now the guests would just walk the few blocks from the church to the Cafe Tropical for the reception. He dashed over to check on the decorations while Ray was taking photos on the church steps. Bethany had insisted on the theme “Enchanted Atlantis” because that had been her and Clay’s prom theme, and it had been the best night of their lives. David had done his best to bring in his aesthetic, and he and Bethany had agreed on lots of blue and silver with some shells and beach glass scattered on the tables. 

David was rearranging the centerpiece flowers when he heard a knock at the door. Expecting the DJ, he pushed it open while shouting, “You’re late! Did you see my text about changing the first dance to “Kiss the Girl” from Little Mermaid?”

It was Patrick. “My acapella group in college did “Under the Sea”—would that work?”

David couldn’t speak. He couldn’t breathe. He could just look at Patrick. Who looked handsome and boyish and shy and eager and yes, radiant, in a navy blazer over a blue button down.

“What are you doing here?” David finally managed to whisper.

“I wanted to see you again. For real this time.” Patrick took a step closer. David could see how freshly shaven he was, smell his shampoo. Patrick took a deep breath. “David, talking to you these last few weeks has been the best part of my life. I look forward to our conversations all day, and I wonder what you’re going to say. And going to wear. You’re the most interesting person I’ve ever met. And when I talk to you I feel interesting, too. And hopeful, and excited about the future. I want to help you open this store, and hear your very strong opinions on basically everything.”

David nodded. His whole body was tingling, and he was trying not to tremble. 

Patrick continued, “The truth is I can’t stop thinking about you. And when you said you had a wedding this weekend and no one to dance with, all I could think about was driving down here and asking you to dance with me. And now that I’m here, and you look so amazing in that suit, I’m kind of wondering if this was not a well thought-out plan, so maybe you could say something?”

David reached out and touched Patrick’s smooth cheek. It steadied him. He wrapped both arms around Patrick’s neck and was amazed how natural it felt, how he fit there just right. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said. “Ever since we met, I’ve been weirdly happy. Alexis keeps asking me why I’m smiling. I think about you all the time. You’re thoughtful and generous and genuinely a good person, and when you look at me I feel warm all over. So yes, you may have this dance.”

All the tension melted from Patrick’s face. He looked a little stunned, gazing at David like he was something wondrous. His hands found his way to David’s waist, and his lips found his way to David’s lips. Patrick’s kiss was slow and searching, and David answered back, yes, this. This is what I’ve been waiting for.

Finally, Patrick pulled back. “So, does this mean that ‘Kiss the Girl’ is going to be our song from now on?”

David laughed, his whole body so full of joy that he felt like he could float away if Patrick’s grasp didn’t keep him firmly on the ground.

“Hmm, what about that other one, with your, did you say, acapella group? Now were you the guy who snapped with gusto during all the songs? Or the one who said ‘ba ba ba’ over and over.”

“I was the one who blew the pitch pipe before each number. And we all wore bow ties.”

“Oh. Oh, actually that works for me.”

Patrick’s look of fond amusement made David’s heart pound. He could hardly believe it, but he, David Rose, wedding planner, had gotten the guy in the end.


End file.
